The Lost King
by Kansas Ford
Summary: After centuries in the West, the sorcerers grow restless. They want more, and the Age of the Sorcerer begins. The Twelve Kingdoms of Peace fall subject to their greed, and the Race of Man is once again enslaved. Only one Royal Ranger carries their hope to the Old Lands for safety. Can this small ray of hope save Man from the from the Twelve Sorcerers determined to control them?
1. Forward

Forward

There were once Twelve men, all different in talent and levels of skills. They came together and used their gifts to bring peace to their land. But Time grew between the men as they argued who was to be king. Each man favored themselves over the other, and they divided the land into twelve, equal sovereigns.

Then, many, many years ago, magical beings from the Old Lands of Magic left their territories and infiltrated the New World. They tricked and conned the innocent people with their magical abilities for personal gain. But they became more and more greedy. Chaos raced through the lands. Sorceresses and warlocks alike began to prey on those they deemed unworthy, scared those who resisted into submission, and slaughtered those who were beyond being frightened to do their will. The once tranquil Twelve Kingdoms fell to ruin to the power of the witches and wizards.

Twelve peaceful Kingdoms there were, and one by one they fell until only one remained.

The King led his army into the final battle, the worst and most brutal the Worlds have ever seen against a mighty sorceress. Her army was larger than King could have ever imagined, and his men lost all hope. The last of the Twelve Kings fell, and the sorceress raided the kingdom. She slayed the King's wife as she protected a crib. Amidst the fighting and blood lust, the sorceress glared into the crib, where a wooden doll lay, still and silent.

The sorceress screamed in anguish, and she searched about the castle for the babe.

The fight had subsided, and the sorceress knew the child was gone, long gone before she even arrived. She'd tortured the castle staff into madness to find the location of the King's child, but none of the servants submitted.

They had no idea where the child was hidden. They had not the slightest indication the child was even missing from its mother's side. For it was the King who recognized their doom early on in battle that he sent his most trusted scout to the castle to hide his only child. Not to be seen, the small scout appeared through the nursery window and told the fair Queen to hand him the child.

The scout was beyond the High Ridge and on the path to the High Mountains when the sorceress attacked the castle. He saw it happen, but he didn't linger long. With a sweep of his billowing cloak, the scout quickly mounted his horse and with the sleeping child safely in his arm. The noble scout vanished into the cover of the trees and the long, moon-cast shadows of the mountain.

No sooner than the sorceress proclaimed herself queen of the kingdom, she'd sent out spies to look for the last of the royal blood line. The scout was always careful, but one day his luck ran short.

Once again the child disappeared from her grasp, but now the sorceress knew more information of what she was dealing with. The Twelve's Royal Scout.

The scout had run far and long when at last he had found what he was searching for.

The Path to the Magic Lands.

The fog that rested there never lifted. Even when the sun was high, the highest trees stretched their heavy leafed branches to block all sunlight from revealing the Path. But the roads here were dangerous, so the scout traveled light without a horse. He walked through the shadows of the forest like a wraith and slept high up in the trees if he could manage it. For five weeks he wandered through the Magic Lands like this with only a baby for company. In that time, he taught the child to be silent during bouts of noise and disturbance.

When the scout couldn't avoid being seen, he'd fasten a pouch over his back and have the child inside it under his cloak. Then he'd go about the villages he came across as an old, hunch over man. With these disguises, the scout never had to part with the baby, but these times of good fortune did not last.

The sorceress nearly caught up with them, and the scout knew he had to put the child somewhere safe.

He'd stolen a horse and rode off, hard and long. The forest grew thicker, and the trees taller. Eventually, the horse could not penetrate the overgrown brush and the scout let the horse free. He looked up as he walked, and the height of the trees dwarfed him, making him seem as small as a fly to the average man. The trunks were large and round that it took several minutes to run passed them.

The scout trudged through the shrubs and weaved around massive trunks until he came to a cobble stone walk. He smiled as he knew his journey was almost over, and took to the road.

The farther he went the darker the road became, and the trees began to close in on him, the air became heavy, but still he walked on. In the darkness, the scout thought he'd spotted a light off the path. If he went off the path he might never find it again. In fact the only way he was still on the path was the sound his heels made on the stones.

He continued to march in the dark. They were both hungry and thirsty, but he couldn't stop to build a fire. The forest harbored great creatures that would be attracted to light even from the smallest pf fires, and if they stepped off the path they would be lost until they died.

Now and then, he could see flickers of light around them in all sorts of colors. At first he was not sure if they were really there or if he was seeing things. In all the time he spent walking in the dark, his eyes had yet to adjust, but this was not an ordinary darkness. This was a protective enchantment.

He kept walking, concentrating hard on noise of his heels when a white speck of light appeared some distance away from him. It grew larger and larger, and he could see how its rays pulsed until the ball of light grew so large it could have easily enveloped the scout and the baby. The light was too bright for his eyes he had to shield them with his gloved hands.

"Do not be afraid, Royal Scout."

He blinked and lowered his hands as the light diminished, leaving a faeri in its wake.

Her head was covered with radiant Easter-purple violets, and wore dark velvet cloak over her white gown.

"You have traveled far."

"Yes," the scout said. "I come in peace."

"But you have a favor to ask of us." She cocked her beautiful face so her pointed ears poked through her silver hair. "You want our people to hide the last free Man Child."

"Protect him, please." The scout showed her the bundle in his arm. "The sorceress's spies-"

"Yes," the faeri said knowingly. "The sorceress's spies are many, indeed, but she has no power here. Yet, her power is growing. Every day she ensnares new servants to carry out her evil deeds. She wants to keep the Race of Man as slaves as they once were eons ago."

"Please take the child, and ensure the prophecy is completed." The scout pleaded with the faeri.

"She will have power to infiltrate us soon, if Man is too weak to resist her. The threat to the New World and even the Magic Lands grows if those greedy enough do not check themselves."

"They have taken over the Twelve Kingdoms. You want them defeated?"

"If their greed deepens, they will plunge the world of magic into darkness and drag all other worlds with it. All creatures will be lost. Even the strength of the Elves will be nonexistent."

"Save yourself, then, if you will not save my entire race!" He held up the child to her as her wings beat together rapidly. "Just promise me you will protect him as long as you can."

"What will you do? If I take the Son of Adam?"

"I must lead the sorceress off his trail."

"You sacrifice yourself for small hope on a prophecy?" She narrowed her angled eyes at him. "'That there remained a Son of Adam, to one day bring back the days of the eternal, and shall take the magic in his own hand and throw evil back to the dark labyrinth whence it came.' A fool's hope?"

"I am a King's Royal Scout, entrusted to take the greatest of The Twelve's son to safety. This infant is the hope of all men now."

"Prophecies are prone to change." She said quickly.

"Men have nothing else to hope for. This child is our freedom, and if all men must believe this child can save us, so be it."

"If the faeries take this Son of Adam, whom all men believe, then he must learn to defend himself against the sorceress's powers." She said first looking on the child then. "Our magic will only take him so far. He will also need the wisdom of Elves."

"Promise me he will live protected until then." The scout dared her.

"With the combined forces of the Elves and Faeries, we will ensure the Son of King's survival."

The scout handed the child into her outstretched arms, and kissed the babe on the forehead before turning around on the stone road and walked away without turning back. The sorceress caught up with him some days later. He fought valiantly, but the sorceress's magic was too strong. He was badly wounded, and couldn't summon the strength to lift any weapon. The sorceress swooped down on him.

"Tell me where the King's child is," she said maliciously, "and I will relieve you of the pain."

"Send me to the netherworld if you wish," the scout spat, "but I will never tell you anything."

"You choose the wrong path, scout." The sorceress said through gritted teeth. "I will not let you join your Kings. You will live in anguish."

From that day, the witches and warlocks formed a pact. They would replace the Twelve Kings, and search for the lost infant king. The sorceress took charge of discipline, torture, and law enforcement. All prisoners faced her unfair judgment.

The scout was subjected to all elements of torture. The scout hid his food, and stopped eating altogether, determined to die before he'd betray his young King. His death was slow and painful. On the his last day when the sorceress asked him where the Twelve's infant was hidden, he died with a smile on his face and a whisper of a laugh on his lips as he saw the last glimpse of fury if he would utter the words he always told her.

"The child is of no concern to you."


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

The race of Man is threatened."

The elf looked around the council gathered before him.

"Men will not survive this encounter if they are not freed." He paused listening to the breathing of every being, then continued in a soft voice. "If Men should be enslaved for much longer, those who control them will take o'er these worlds and nothing will be left free or alive that would not be broken."

"We are not to meddle in the affairs of Men." A young elf spoke up courageously, and their leader watched him serenely. "What should we care if their will should be bent for others, or their hearts broken and their strength debilitated?"

"Hold your tongue!"

The elf shrank back and the leader pierced his eyes into a locking stare.

"You do not possess the wisdom only time can give. You know nothing about how the Realms will fall if balance is not restored."

The elf looked into his father's eyes, absorbing the intensity that sparked like a flame that kindled the purpose inside.

"The sorcerers," their leader went on, finally moving his eyes away from his son's face, "know little of what they have done. Since they have occupied the New World, the world now intended for the growth of men, they have disrupted the course of the other realms. As you all know the Old Lands and the New World are the parents of the other nine realms. What events take place here appear, too, in the other realms.

"We are the Guardians of the Realms." The Elder went on. "Appointed by the Creator, Himself. It is our duty to put an end to the corruption the sorcerers have inflicted on our intertwined Worlds. And so it is our duty to-"

"My Lord!"

The elder stopped and an elf surrounded by several bright specks of light, ran forward with a bundle in his arms.

"This is a private council."

"Please, my Lord! There's been an attack!"

The lights grew bright and the faeri(s) appeared, veiled in their pulsing light.

"Our magic," the one cloaked in purple lowered her hood, "has plunged into ruin, my Lord Elf. The sorcerers have overwhelmed us."

The council members rustled about in surprise and whispered to each other, disquieted by this news. Many elves leaned forward in shock. Their lord held up his hand for silence. He listened intently for all voices to be hushed, then waved the faeri to continue.

"Their greed grows rapidly. Now that they have taken over Men, they have enough power to conquer other magical races. Too many were killed defending our forest, and I fear any survivors were kidnapped. We-" she pointed at the seven faeri(s) behind her "-are all that are free. However, with our numbers depleted, our magic will fade and be nonexistent if we don't act soon. Please help us, Lord of the Elves."

"How dare the sorcerers attack those whose magic is above their own!"

"Elzar," the Lord said, and his son held back his anger. "We all knew their power was gaining strength. And this terror is just one example of what their greed will do the Realms. The races, no matter how strong," his son shifted in the background, "will fall. We have one choice."

A cooing sound, soft as a gentle yawn, broke the silence in the room.

The Lord stopped.

It had appeared he was the only one that heard it. He listened for it again. The sound came again, like a dove. The elf stood up and walked about the room. The elves parted as he walked between them.

"My Lord?" His son followed behind him, and his father waved his hand to dismiss the question.

The wizened elf stood and listened for the soft call again and again until it lead him to the watch elf who still held a bundle in his arms. The Lord Elf slowly stepped up to the elf, took hold of the blanket, and lifted the fabric. He stared at the source of the cooing with an unreadable expression.

"Your Majesty," the purple faeri said softly, taking the child from the elf. "Forgive me. I have brought danger to your front steps."

"A Son of Adam." The Lord breathed.

The council seemed not to breathe, and watched the elf intensively.

"Did the sorcerers know you have the child?"

The faeri shook her head.

"We have a new choice."

Their Lord took hold of the faeri's arm and gently led her back to his seat. After she'd been set down with the child, the Lord swept away with a new energy.

"There is new hope." He said. "One free man child."

"What hope," his son sneered at the child in the faeri's arms, "is an infant?"

The Lord Elf gave his son a withering look. He held out his arms to the faeri, and she placed the child in his arms.

"This child is the last of Men still free from the sorcerers' power. There is still hope for the Race of Men."

"He is of noble birth, my Lord." The faeri spoke.

The elf cracked the smallest of smiles on his face.

"The Prophecy." He held up the child for all to see. "'The King of the Twelfth shall banish the darkness to the Underworld, and he will bring together the kingdoms and lead them to peace. That there remained a Son of Adam, to one day bring back the days of the eternal, and shall take up magic in his own hand and throw evil back to the dark labyrinth whence it came.'"

"Father."

The Lord of the Elves' smile drooped, and he lowered the child back into the crook of his elbow. He turned to his son.

"Two races have nearly ended." He told him. "The Prophecy is as the Creator tells us. He never lies."

"Then the Creator can save us as he promised."

"That time has not yet come!" A deep furrow became etched into the Lord's forehead between his eyes. "You have not listened to our teachings. 'Only when all hope is diminished, will the Creator come down to us, save those who repent and do His will, that He will smite evil, and all races will be free under his careful protection.' There is still hope for us all!"

"Not one sorcerer would dare fight us!"

"Go pray, Elzar." His father told him calmly.

Elzar turned on his heel and marched away from his father.

"You still have much to learn. You will understand." He breathed as he looked after Elzar's retreating back.

"Now," the Lord Elf said coming back to the council, "we must endeavor to keep the Son of Adam safe."

"The pools." The purple faeri said.

"The portals? Between the Realms?" The Lord said.

"Yes." She said. "Send the Son of Adam to a different Realm. One where he will be safe."

"We shall, but we must invoke a powerful protection on him also: The Promise of Tombs, perhaps."

The council gasped and broke out at once in loud babble. They stared at him and he heard voices call out "You do not mean it!" "Surely, not!" "You know what will happen with such powerful magic! If the Promise is broken!"

"This child needs the protection!" Lord Elf bellowed above their chatter, and they fell silent. "The Promise with so many participants will be stronger than any other spell one of us alone can conjure!"

"The risks, my Lord!" someone called out.

"The Promise of Tombs is an ancient magical force. If I did not believe it necessary, I would not ask you all to join me in conjuring it." He looked around at them with hard eyes. "If the risks frighten you, then it is more assurance to me that this child will survive.

"Now, please," he said in a softer tone, "join me."

He turned to face the North Wall, and they all stepped forward to observe the names engraved there.

"Our Fathers!" Lord Elf cried out in a loud voice. "We have kept you close to us in the hope that your memory will guide us true! Now today, we call upon you to strengthen us where we are weak at heart! We invoke the Promise of Tombs, and pray we have the strength to hold our tongues!"

They knelt down before the tombs, and began to pray aloud, each voice encouraged by the sound of the next, and they chanted in their own tongue the spell to bind their shared secret.

In the years to come, this moment is remembered to this day. Their vow was translated, and read in the Common Tongue:

"'Our Fathers! Hear our prayer! Make our faith as strong as your faith. Make our will your iron will. Hear our prayer! Keep our tongues still to keep silent our secret. Hear our prayers, and for ever and ever!'"

The elves of the council quaked with fear at what they had spoken. Such an event as this that would've surely been talked of for ages to come was now silenced forever. Only Lord Elf was his own self, as he stood on his feet.

He waved to the faeries.

All he could say was, "Come!"

They left abruptly, and on horseback they traveled to the Temple of Pools, as the faeries called them. To the elves, the clear waters were Fountain Portals.

"Where?" The purple faeri asked.

The Lord Elf looked around at the pools.

The pools were arranged in a circle of nine with two in the middle, representing the Realms.

They walked between the pools glimpsing into the clear waters.

"One where magic has no place in the Realm. There, he would be safest." The elf stopped, gazing into the pool in front of him as the breeze pulled at his robes. "Here."

The faeri came closer.

"I will go with him."

"No." The elf said. "You must replenish your race and increase your numbers. A land without the light of the faeries would be a sad, dark place, indeed."

"But my magic is almost gone." She argued. "Here, where magic has no place, it will survive."

"If the faeries magic fades here," he said, "you won't have the magic to go to this Realm, or anywhere."

She bowed her head.

"I will take him there."

"But someone must stay with him."

"I will stay in this world until his is of age. But first," the elf bent and pick up a fallen stick, "I need a storage for my magic."

"You're parting with your magic? How will you return?"

"The pools are in every Realm, I will manage." He kept his eyes on the staff, and waved his hand over it.

The stick formed into a cane and a clear blue-ish gem was embedded on the top. Intricate carved designs traced their own path down the cane. A black-wood cane, with gold embellished indentations of leaves accenting rim around the gem.

He muttered an incantation under his breath, and he became flushed with concentration. He tumbled forward. The faeri caught him before he could fall in any pools. He recovered quickly, and held the staff gingerly.

He took the child from one of her fellow faeries, and put a hand on the purple faeri's shoulder.

"Watch over my son, Elzar, will you?"

The faeri nodded, and she watch as the elf stepped into the pool. Its depths should have taken him down, but the elf stood with little water over his boots.

He held up the staff, and cried out in a loud voice the incantation.

On the last syllable, the elf brought down the staff and struck the water in the pool with a loud noise as if the staff made impact with metal. There was a bright light, and the elf and infant disappeared in a sudden fog around the pool.

When the fog cleared they were gone.


	3. Chapter Two

Part One

In Someplace Like

England

Chapter Two

HOW LONG DO I HAVE?"

"Long enough to set your affairs in order, I expect." the doctor said finally, closing his bag. "You have an heir, I presume?"

"No." The man grunted. "...never married. I had no wish to, but now, I see the folly in my old ways of thinking."

"I suggest notifying your nearest relations."

"Ah, Mr. Masson!" The man gasped in feigned surprise, mockingly raising his eyebrows at his lawyer, who sat quietly in the corner of the dimly lit study. "Finally decided to join us on deciding my fate, at last, have you?"

"You know very well, Mr. Morose," Mr. Masson said standing up from his upholstered chair in the corner, "that this is a very serious matter, and I'm sure making bad jokes is your own way to cope with the present case at hand, but you must entitle one of your relatives to inherit your fortune."

"Gold diggers, the lot of them!"

"You must not be so ill-tempered, sir!" The doctor said calmly. "Your condition could worsen because of your severe mood swings."

"I'm surprised myself I have lived this long!"

"Mr. Morose, please!" Mr. Masson said sounding exasperated. "Allow me to interview your remaining family members. I can find you a suitable heir."

"No!" Mr. Morose stood up at once on hearing his lawyer's request. "If I should so urgently have an heir, I want to pick and choose and investigate myself! For among my relations hide devious pretenders and schemers that will squander my fortune before I am cold in my grave! They are so sneaky, even a soul as _intelligent _as you will not find them."

"Are you sure you are _well_ enough for such a task?" Mr. Masson raised an eyebrow and glanced at the doctor. "Dr. Higgins?"

"If he keeps himself as calm and rested as possible, I do not see why he shouldn't."

Mr. Masson sighed.

"At least let me help counsel you in your choices, Mr. Morose."

"So that you can fail each time you set a 'suitable' heir by your standards?" Mr. Morose opened the study door and ushered his doctor and lawyer out into a grand hall. "I think not. I shall find an heir according to my regulations."

"Very well, Mr. Morose." Mr. Masson stood, clearly defeated. "Then I shall see you and your heir in a fortnight?"

"Yes." Mr. Morose confirmed the date with a small smile. "Yes, you shall."

He showed the men out of his magnificent manor.

"'Calm and rested.'" Mr. Morose muttered under his breath. "With such a lawyer, how is such tranquility to be acquired?"

Mr. Morose simply marched back to his study and shut the door with a temperamental _snap!_ behind him.

At once he consulted his family tree.

Weeding through such unfortunate connections should not be so difficult, he thought...or would it?

He sat by the softly crackling fire, and took in the names. He eliminated his sister, Dolores' family: they were always out for what they could get, and seeing how one visit over one dreadful summer convinced him another would be two too many, he couldn't find it possible that his well-mannered heir could be hiding there. His brother, Charles was not half so bad, he thought, but his wife was another story. They also had no children, and Mr. Morose thanked the Lord on this thought, as she was not a motherly type of woman.

Mr. Morose exhaled through his nose and stared at the fire.

What was he to do?

Well, whatever he was going to do, he had a fortnight to do it.

He glanced at his family tree, again, at the only name left.

His brother John and his wife, Sybil had three children. Two boys and a girl. And he hoped his heir was among them, as he pulled open a drawer at his writing desk and retrieved his stationary, ink, and pen.

_TWO DAYS LATER_

Theo sat in the attic reading one of his favorite novels, _A Christmas Carol_, by the small dirty window with a partially moth-eaten curtain parted off to one side to allow some sun light in the dusty attic.

The boy was dressed in old, but nicely kept clothes with old hand-me-down boots from his cousin, Timothy that were a tad too big for him.

The book he was reading was a Christmas present from his Aunt Sybil, who was married to John Morose.

John and Sybil Morose were not unkind to Theo, but he did seem to always get the underhand in everything, especially from his aunt who favored her sons before Theo, and hardly took notice that her nephew was there. The novel from Aunt Sybil was given to her by her brother-in-law, Fredrick Morose. However, the book was never opened and still was as if his uncle's brother had just bought it in a book shop; the pages and spine still crisp and in pristine condition, as Aunt Sybil took little pleasure in reading. Uncle John, who treated Theo much nicer and more often, gave his two sons Gregory and Timothy brand new pocket watches, both with grand gold finishing and crystal faces, while Theo received his first ever pocket watch that wasn't as grand, but was new and silver. Theo did not mind at all, because Uncle John specifically asked him what he wanted and let Theo choose for himself. And Theo's other cousin, Phyllis gave him a quilt that her Aunt Dolores gave her and never used herself. The quilt came in good use during this cold winter season, as reading in the attic was always hard when the cold seeped in and froze his hands, and made for difficult page turning.

So there he sat by the dirty window wrapped in his never-used quit, reading his never-read book, and holding the silver pocket watch in his free hand, running his thumb over the warmed silver plating.

"THEO!"

He started and almost dropped the book.

"GET DOWN HERE AT ONCE!"

Theo memorized his page and shut the book, put his watch in his pocket, and threw the quilt on his small bed. He glanced out the window, and hastily wiped some grime away to see a tall man dress in a black trench coat step out of a heated horse-drawn carriage. Motorcars were not used in the winters in this town, as the fuel would go to heating the homes, and they were expensive to run.

"THEO!"

Theo dashed from the window, down the stairs, and right into the Morose's maid, the old crow, Missus Stefan.

"You naughty, dreadful boy!" She said boxing his ear. "You, making me yell up the stairwell! When you knew perfectly well that we were expecting company!"

Missus Stefan was most likely the only one who abused him in John Morose's house.

She raised her hand again, and naturally Theo raised his hands up above his head to protect his ears, and wished he hadn't when she shrieked like a crazed bird about the state of his hands.

"Dreadful, _dirty_ boy!" she slapped him again and ordered him to clean up.

She muttered under her breath all the while Theo washed his hands carefully under her watchful eye.

"Now out!" and she pushed him into the sitting room where his cousins and Aunt Sybil sat unusually quiet and so unusually still.

"Here, Theo."

Cousin Phyllis beckoned him to a seat next to hers. She was kindest to him besides Uncle John.

Uncle John went outside to receive his brother and guest for the next several days.

"Fredrick," John said out in the hall, and was heard perfectly in the sitting room, "your telegram said you had a matter of great urgency-" there was a sound of stumbling, like someone fell against the wall in the hall, "-by Jove, what is wrong?"

"Nothing, John!" a gruff, harsh voice said in dismissal. "The journey was long and tiresome. A spot of tea and rest should be in order."

The men reached the sitting room and they all stood up as they entered, and Aunt Sybil strode forward to receive her brother-in-law.

Mr. Morose was not entirely listening to her greeting, but looking at the children, resting his eyes on Theo, as if he didn't quite belong there.

"Yes, thank you, Sybil." Mr. Morose said looking back to her as if he heard what she said, and took her hand to his lips.

"We did not expect you so early!" Aunt Sybil said pleasantly.

"I traveled early, shortly after I sent my letter."

"And by _telegram _also! Isn't that _expensive_?"

Mr. Morose looked at Aunt Sybil with some dislike on his face that it seemed only Theo could see.

"Mrs. Morose," the man started in a suddenly formal tone, "I did not send a telegram to be quizzed on the matter of its cost to me. I sent it to inform you I was to arrive here, however, rudely uninvited."

"Come off it, Fredrick!" Uncle John sputtered. "We have been meaning to invite you for the longest time. You have never returned word of when business would free you!"

"Ah, yes! Forgive me, but business has been chains as of late." Mr. Morose looked at Theo again with a quizzical expression, as if to figure out why the boy was there. "I have recently found a break to come here. Forgive my intrusion."

"It is already done!" Uncle John said cheerfully.

Uncle John followed his brother's gaze to the children and chuckled softly.

"Yes, our children." Uncle John waltzed around their chairs and introduced his children. "Gregory, our eldest, then comes Phyllis, and Timothy, our last."

Once again, Mr. Morose set his cold, black eyes on Theo, and Aunt Sybil rushed to Theo's side and rested a white hand on his shoulder.

"Theodore Wellington, my nephew."

"Visiting?" Mr. Morose inquired.

"No," Uncle John said looking sideways at his wife.

"My sister's son is under our charge." Sybil said.

"Wellington?"

"Sarah's husband was William Wellington."

"Ah, yes." Mr. Morose said softly. "I remember. Unfortunate...Very unfortunate."

"Yes." Uncle John looked at Theo with concern in his eyes, and switched the subject. "You mentioned tea before, Fredrick?"

"Yes, I did." Mr. Morose said still observing Theo with a strange look in his eyes.

They all sat down, and Phyllis rang the bell for tea.

The next few days went on almost as normally, with occasional glances at Theo from Mr. Morose. Theo found that the man often sat close by whenever he was at dinner or in the parlor, and he wondered what was so interesting about him that Mr. Morose could not stop studying him.

One day, the fifth day he was their guest, Theo was finishing _A Christmas Carol_ in the parlor. He been unable to finish it sooner, as Mr. Morose seemed to take up all of the family's time and energy, and finally the excitement was dying down, giving Theo a spare moment to read his book in a place other than his cold attic bedroom by candle light.

Mr. Morose walked in with his usual black cane with gold trim and black clothes, and, of course, a cup of tea.

The man had a cup of tea every time someone offered him a drink. He always refused any other refreshment, especially when Uncle John offered him a glass of his Olde Scotch whiskey.

"Not too early in the day for one of these, I hope!" Uncle John said cheerfully to Mr. Morose as if to presume his brother also drank.

"No, thank you." Mr. Morose said sternly. "You may have one, if you really must."

"Come now, Fredrick!"

"Tea!" Mr. Morose said so loudly Phyllis had gasped of fright and stopped playing her sheet music at the piano, Sybil stared, and Theo simply looked curiously at the older man who sat there so still, clutching the top of his cane so tightly his knuckles were white.

"I will be having tea, thank you, John." Mr. Morose said, sounding so unusually quiet after his outburst, and smiled weakly, as if he instantly regretted his shout.

Theo watched Mr. Morose from the corner of his eye as he walked briskly to a fine, upholstered chair and sat facing Theo as he pretended to read. Occasionally, Theo could hear the _clink!_ and _chink!_ of his aunt's finest china as Mr. Morose would sip and set his cup on his saucer and onto the side table.

"Read often?" Mr. Morose asked after a few minutes of dull silence, taking another sip of his tea. "You'd make a fine scholar. What are you reading? Come here, show me."

Theo crossed the parlor and handed Mr. Morose the book.

"Ah!" Mr. Morose said as he took in the cover. "'_A Christmas Carol._' Read Dickens often?"

"No, sir."

"All the same, you have taste." Mr. Morose said, sounding disappointed, and handed the book back to Theo, and took another sip of his tea.

Mr. Morose looked over his tea cup and observed the boy with a critical eye.

The boy's hair was light brown with matching brown eyes. His attire was shamefully out of style, which lead Mr. Morose to conclude that Sybil did care to attend to the boy's clothes as she does so with her own sons. The boy's shoes were too large for him and scoffed. Overall, the boy did not show any promises of success by looking at his appearance.

Mr. Morose felt a stab of annoyance at his sister-in-law for her distinction of rank. She has spoiled her sons beyond any hope of treatment at the same time as degrading her nephew.

_'And speak of the devil.'_ Mr. Morose thought as Aunt Sybil came into the room, stopped, and stared at Mr. Morose and Theo.

"Oh! I am sorry, Fredrick!" She said at once, briskly walking over to Theo and dragging her nephew away from Mr. Morose as if Theo was a pest. "Theo, I distinctly remember instructing you not to bother our guest! _Shame_ on you!"

"But I-"

"I told you!"

Mr. Morose stood up abruptly, making Aunt Sybil start.

"The boy was not a nuisance, Mrs. Morose." Mr. Morose said, sounding all formal as he did once before. "In fact, I was more of a nuisance to Theodore. Wasn't I? I was asking him a lot of questions about his book."

Theo nodded at Sybil.

"How _dare_ you call _my_ guest a nuisance!"

Before Sybil could shove Theo out of the room, Mr. Morose stepped in front of the room with incredible speed.

"Please excuse me, Fredrick. I must discipline this troublesome nephew of mine."

"No." Mr. Morose said simply.

Aunt Sybil stopped and looked up at Mr. Morose, and so did Theo.

The man stood with his cane in front of the doorway, just looking down on them both, and harshly at Aunt Sybil.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, 'no.' quite plainly." Mr. Morose did not budge. "Theodore did nothing wrong, and disciplining him in such a case as this is abuse."

Aunt Sybil lessened the grip on Theo, but he did not dare slip from her grasp.

"I am his guardian." She said dangerously low. "I may punish him as I see fit."

"I think not." Mr. Morose said confidently. "In fact, I think by your behavior here, you seem to treat your nephew in this way quite often, when your sons should have more of what you call 'discipline.'"

"My sons are respectable young men."

"Excuse me," Mr. Morose said sternly, "but I had not noticed any behavior from them that I classify as 'respectable.' To me, they are reckless, spoiled hoodlums."

Aunt Sybil let go of Theo as if she were burned.

"It is time," Mr. Morose said as he beckoned Theo to him, "I revealed my true reason why I am here: While I have been here, I have observed your sons. But I have picked Theodore Wellington as my heir to my fortune, my personal effects, my estate, and my businesses."

Aunt Sybil looked as though she were slapped, but recovered a moment later.

"You cannot have him." She snapped. "His parents entrusted him to me."

"No, they did not."

Aunt Sybil looked astounded at him.

"I wrote to my lawyer a day after my arrival. He looked at William and Sarah Wellington's will, and found that they entrusted their only son-should anything happen to them-to Mr. John Morose until he was of age."

"I am part of the John Morose family!" Aunt Sybil looked furiously at Theo as if this was all his fault. "I'm John's wife!"

"Unlucky for you, the _family_ are not specifically mentioned." Mr. Morose said tiredly.

Aunt Sybil looked appalled at Mr. Morose, "You cannot do this!"

"Theodore, come with me. We have some business to discuss with your uncle." He stepped sideways to let Theo through the door frame first, to put himself between the boy and Sybil.


End file.
